


The unruly mimbulus mimbletonia

by needlesneedles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Could Be Canon, Everyone at Hogwarts who is attracted to male wizards crushes so hard on Neville, Gen, Handsome Neville, Neville doesn't notice though, Oblivious Neville, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Canon, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Professor Neville Longbottom, Professor-to-be Neville Longbottom, if you want to quibble over details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needlesneedles/pseuds/needlesneedles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville Longbottom: he's a war hero, the future Herbology professor, and, to top it all off, a rather dashing young man. However, he is quite oblivious to the affections of the students at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout chats with him.</p><p>This fanfiction imagines how a day in the life of Neville would be like if he had grown up to be remarkably handsome, just like the actor Matthew Lewis did.</p><p>The fanfiction includes politically incorrect fainting and giggling, I suppose. Neville takes a bubble bath. No romance, just the students' one-sided attraction to the once bumbling and awkward Neville Longbottom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The unruly mimbulus mimbletonia

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would write fanfiction. But this happened. I just really wanted to read a story about Neville having Matthew Lewis's looks and how that would affect him after the books end. I couldn't find many stories, so here is this, in all its unbeta-ed glory. All mistakes are my own, and I claim no ownership to any of this.

It seemed that the Mimbulus mimbletonia was not cooperating.

SPLAT!

Scratch that. The Mimbulus mimbletonia was definitely NOT cooperating. Neville was soaked in its inky fluid.

Neville Longbottom was sitting in the greenhouses at Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It was one fine October afternoon, and classes had ended for the day. The days at Hogwarts were passing in peace— well, in as much peace as you can get with a school full of adolescent wizards. It had been a few years since the downfall of the man who was once Tom Riddle and the triumph of the Boy Who Lived.

Those few years had treated Neville well. He was quite satisfied with the direction his life was taking. Neville was studying under Professor Sprout in order to replace her when she retired at year’s end. It was an opportunity full of afternoons where he could devote his time to research and special projects. 

One of the offspring of his much beloved Mimbulus mimbletonia, which he had received back in fifth year, was serving as a subject for one of these projects. The original plant was thriving under Neville’s attentive care, having grown and prospered even as the wizarding world fell under Voldermort’s cruel grasp. Neville was well pleased to see it thriving, its magical powers still strong, when he had stepped around shards of broken glass in his first visit back to the greenhouse after the Battle of Hogwarts and Potter’s defeat of Voldemort.

Like his plant, Neville was thriving now. He was well on his way to becoming the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. Furthermore, thanks to the efforts of the Golden Trio, his fellow members of Dumbledore’s Army, and other civic-minded wizards and witches, the magical world of the Great Britain was mending. And most wonderfuly of all, a Healer at St. Mungo’s had confided in Neville the last time he had visited his parents that wizards in France had just made a breakthrough on a medical case exactly the same as his parents’. Even though it had been more than a week since the news, Neville was still allowing his hope to grow.

Even Grandmother Augusta was doing very well, taking delight in fussing over the unkemptness of her grandson whenever he visited her. She frequently bewailed his scruffiness and his lean physique, as well as the fact that the matchmaking prospects at Hogwarts were few for her beloved grandson. Augusta certainly would have much to complain about if she saw Neville right now. Thanks to the little plant he had been tending to, he was dripping a black substance all over his vicinity. Bother. Neville would have to call it a day and go back to the castle to wash it all off.

“Be quiet, Muriel! He’ll hear you!”

Neville quickly looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise. He heard footsteps— was it just one person? No, it was two— three, actually— people. Students. He frowned. While he loved to help students understand the finer aspects of Herbology, right now was not really a good time for that.

“Oh! Er, sorry, Mr. Longbottom!”

The students— sixth year Gryffindors who had been in class just today— had found him. Neville grinned self-deprecatingly.

“Sorry, ladies. I’m afraid I can’t be of much help to you right now. If you’re looking for help with your project on fanged geraniums, Professor Sprout should be in her office.”

The girls balanced on their feet nervously.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, sir. We were...” one of the girls started. She stopped suddenly. Neville wondered if it was too hot in the greenhouse. The girl’s cheeks had turned awfully red.

Another girl, shorter than the others, jumped in after a moment of stammering.

“We were just curious about your plant there, Mr. Longbottom. You said it was Mimsy bulbetonis?”

Neville shook his head.

“Ladies, I’m glad you’re taking the time to find out more about Herbology. Besides what you learn in class, I mean. I’m afraid I can’t help you this afternoon, but if you visit again later this week, I will be more than happy to set you up with some useful literature on Mimbulus mimbletonia.”

Darn it. He was sounding awfully like Hermione Granger, now that he thought about it.

The short girl’s face fell.

“Oh, that’s all right, sir. Er, thanks! See you in class!”

The three girls fluttered away. Neville thought he heard some giggling.

“Did you see his muscles? Oh, that chest!”

“We caught him at the right time! His robes were soaked through!”

Or at least that’s what it sounded like the girls were saying as they walked away. He hoped that the scents of the other plants in the greenhouse weren’t getting to him. (One disastrous time, the fumes of a particularly noxious plant in the corner of the greenhouse had driven a seventh-year Ravenclaw wizard to kiss Neville's hand. Or at least Neville thought it was the plant's fault.) 

Neville shook his head and looked down at his shirt. It was indeed soaked from the Mimbulus mimbletonia’s unfortunate outburst and clung to him, revealing more of his build than his robes normally did.

Professor Sprout chose that moment to appear out of nowhere. Obviously, she had not been in her office as Neville had thought.

“Ah, Mr. Longbottom. I had hoped to put this talk off for a while more,” the kindly Hufflepuff Head said.

“Wh-what talk, Professor?” Neville stuttered. “I’m afraid now’s not a good time to speak.” He gestured to his chest.

Professor Sprout sighed. “Do not worry about your robes right now, Mr. Longbottom. Mimbulus mimbletonia? Not especially dangerous, so no harm, then, in sparing a few moments. Have a seat, if you please.”

Neville didn’t really please, but it looked as if he had no choice. He sat down on a stool.

“Mr. Longbottom, please let me say once again how very glad I am that you have accepted my position when I retire at the end of the year,” started Professor Sprout. She smiled. “In fact, I’m absolutely giddy. From your first Herbology class here at Hogwarts, I knew you had great promise.”

Neville grinned briefly. If it hadn’t been for Herbology, his confidence as a first-year student at Hogwarts would’ve been shot. That is, if he really did have any confidence in the first place.

Professor Sprout patted his hand kindly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Longbottom. You are doing wonderfully, and I am glad to see you happy and content with your work here in the greenhouses.”

“However, I must speak to you about interacting with the students,” she continued.

Neville frowned. He had not been anything but respectful of the students, eager to share with them his fascination with Herbology.

“Now, now, Mr. Longbottom, don’t fret,” Professor Sprout said reassuringly. “It is only that a wizard that looks like you is bound to get attention from the students here at Hogwarts. It is a tender age for them, and while our duty is to guide them safely through it, we also have to watch our own behavior.”

Neville’s frown deepened.

“Mr. Longbottom, remember that class with the fifth-year Slytherins and Ravenclaws a week ago when I sent you up to the castle with a message for the headmaster?”

Neville nodded. He had been confused by that. Surely Pomona Sprout, who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and was quite a formidable witch when she chose, was capable of using magic to send a message. Or at least she could have sent an owl.

“I thought you were aware of it, but now I’m not sure,” Sprout said. “The students in that class are especially flagrant in their admiration of you. That day, they were especially distracted by you, it seems. My, the things I heard said about you! The Slytherin boys were particularly vocal that day. How do such young ones know so much already?” The professor's voice trailed off as she shook her head.

“I— er, I apologize, Professor,” said Neville, his face an alarming shade of red. “I had no clue.” He really had no idea.

“Don’t worry yourself overmuch, Mr. Longbottom,” said Professor Sprout. “I simply thought I might have a chat with you about it, especially since there has been a mass flocking of young witches down to the greenhouses lately. Do note, though, that you must button your shirt up properly at all times during the school day. More frequent shaving might do good as well.”

Neville winced, but Professor Sprout continued anyway. 

“Neville, when you become a professor, you have to be well aware that you are working with young people who are experiencing their first loves. Over the past few weeks, it has become clear that you are the object of passion for many a student here at Hogwarts. I think you are not unaware of your good looks, and I urge you to keep that in mind. There have been instances in the past where overeager students have positively drowned a professor with their admiration. Such cases have not turned out well for both parties."

Professor Sprout leveled Neville a significant look. Neville still held his bewildered expression, but nodded.

"Well, now that I've brought this to your attention, you should be better prepared to fend off such actions from the young ones,” said Professor Sprout.

Neville blinked and shook his head.

“I had no idea. Er, thank you, Professor, for telling me. I’ll do my best to be aware,” he finally said.

“Good man.” Professor Sprout patted his hand again. “Now off with you. Wash yourself up.” She picked up a basket brimming with a tentacly plant that might or might've not been hissing faintly and left the greenhouse.

Neville sighed. He did have to go back up to the castle and take care of this mess.

He walked out of the greenhouse, unaware of the scattered groups of students out on the grounds who gawped after him. The titters of a gaggle of girls did not reach his ears.

“Unaware of my good looks,” Neville muttered. “No wonder she’s retiring, dear Sprout. I’m afraid my looks aren’t that nice. For crying out loud, I’m Neville Longbottom!”

He sighed and adjusted his robes as he opened one of the doors to the castle.

A girl fainted upon glimpsing the wry grin he gave accompanying this gesture.

“Muriel,” cried her friend. “Mr. Longbottom is MINE! Don’t go fainting at wizards that aren’t yours!”

“Oh, be quiet, Rachel,” said another witch. “Mr. Neville Longbottom is too gorgeous to worry himself about what you think of him.”

“Says you, Phyllis,” shot back Rachel. “Now help me with Muriel. You would think she would stop fainting, we see Longbottom every day.”

The aforementioned Longbottom, soon to be the Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, soon to be named Witches’ Weekly Most Eligible Bachelor No. 5, was blissfully forgetting Sprout’s words about Rachel and others like her as he stepped into a bubble bath up in his private rooms at the castle.

Except perhaps his thoughts did flit back to the subject very briefly as he took his bath. Maybe he did have a decent amount of chest hair. That must be it. Neville Longbottom gave a self-satisfied nod to himself and resolved to buy robes with higher collars the next time he went to Diagon Alley.


End file.
